


An Orchid in Bloom

by nekosmuse



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Demisexuality, Enthusiastic Consent, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Safe Sane and Consensual, Stormtrooper Culture, but not the common trope, not a sex pollen fic, so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 08:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8006359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse/pseuds/nekosmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex inside the First Order works like this...</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Orchid in Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> I mused a bit on stormtrooper sex the other day and then someone asked for a followup. It got out of hand. Apologies?

Sex inside the First Order works like this:

Shortly before the onset of puberty, sex-ed becomes a mandatory part of their training. There are literally thousands of them, all living in close quarters, trained to fight together, live together, shower together, eat together… Sex is inevitable, and the First Order goes out of their way to ensure their education is comprehensive.

They learn about different customs and sexual mores. They learn about consent. They learn about how their bodies function. They learn about how other bodies function, human and otherwise. They learn about safety and the importance of maintaining their inoculation regiment. In short they learn about sex in the same way they learn about blaster assembly and maintenance. Thoroughly. Scientifically. 

And of course they’re all eager to try it. Well, a lot of them, anyway. Stories start to surface: hand jobs in the fresher; digital penetration in the storage closet; frottage in cargo bay. By the time they enter their late teens it’s a badge of honour, like a nickname or inclusion at the sabbac table. They’re still cadets, so the First Order lets them get it out of their system. The understanding is this:

Once you’re a trooper, the First Order comes first, so experiment now because there won’t be time later.

It works pretty well for the most part, so that by the time they hit their early twenties it’s no longer an issue. Sex still happens in the freshers, but it’s no longer a pressing need. Their hormones aren’t surging anymore so they can direct their energies towards more productive activities.

So Finn knows all about sex. He knows that a healthy adult human male can release between 40 million and 1.2 billion sperm cells in a single ejaculation. He knows the males of several species can achieve orgasm exclusively via prostate stimulation. He knows the Devani people mate in groups of twelve. He knows Teranga females kill their mates after conception. He has encyclopedic knowledge of sex and yet…

The First Order had no problems turning a blind eye, letting them get it out of their system, but it wasn’t mandated, and the unspoken rule was simple: you did it on your own time and consent was paramount.

That last part was good, Finn thinks, because the alternative left him feeling vaguely nauseous, the idea of forcing someone–of being forced–beyond repulsive, it’s just…

No one ever asked. And Finn could never work up the courage to ask. So here he is, a million light-years from his previous life, being propositioned for the first time and…

He’s not interested.

And no, that’s not true, parts of him are very interested, and parts of him are very curious, but the part of him currently running the show? Isn’t. Because the guy propositioning him, while cute and nice and someone Finn probably would have said yes to back in the First Order, isn’t the guy he spends the bulk of his free time thinking about and Finn’s starting to think the First Order had it all wrong.

Because according to the First Order sex was a physiological need. Something to be taken care of in the same way you brushed your teeth, or hit up the gym, or maintained your carb to protein ratio. It certainly didn’t involve emotional attachments because emotional attachments outside of general camaraderie were strictly forbidden. And now Finn’s beginning to think it was never about working up the courage.

So he turns the guy down, politely of course, and decides right then and there that it’s probably time he and Poe have a conversation. First though, he needs to get his hands on a nebula orchid, because if the First Order taught him anything it was the importance of understanding cultural courtship rituals, and on Yavin 4, nebula orchids are considered powerful aphrodisiacs, and knowing Poe like he does, he’s pretty sure Poe will appreciate the gesture.

At the very least, he’ll understand the significance.

 

~*~

3 weeks later

 

Poe gets it right away, because of course he does. It's not like they haven't been building towards this for what seems like an eternity. It's not like Poe doesn't _know_.

Finn still sets the orchid down gingerly, its sharp, sweet scent filling the room. It looks oddly out of place in the middle of Poe's mess, a single point of colour amidst the schematics and overdue reports littering Poe's desk. Finn takes a step back, and then, because he can't figure out what to do with them, he shoves his hands into his pockets.

"So," he says, forcing himself to meet Poe's eye.

This wasn't supposed to be awkward. He's had time to get used to the idea, finding a Yavin 4 nebula orchid not exactly easy. He even rehearsed what he was going to say, because if he's going to proposition a guy for the first time in his life, he's damned well going to do it right.

"So," Poe parrots back at him, his eyes alight with amusement. There's something else there, something softer, something not quite certain. It makes Finn feel a little better. Still, he pauses to shrug off his jacket, setting it on the back of Poe's chair with the same care he showed the orchid.

"I like you," Finn says when he turns back. It takes effort not to shove his hands back into his pockets.

Poe glances once to the orchid. "I can see that."

Finn nods. He waits.

"You know I like you, too, right?"

"Yeah, kind of figured," Finn answers, because it's not like he didn't know. At this point he's not sure there's anyone who doesn't know, except apparently the tech who propositioned him but Finn's not about to bring _that_ up.

"So," Poe says again, this time serious, the uncertainty back, though now it's coloured by anticipation. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth, his body swaying perceptively forward.

Finn releases a shaky breath.

"I was wondering if I could kiss you," he says, faster than he intended, but Poe's eyes grow wide so Finn knows he's heard. Saying it does nothing to calm the racing of his heart. If anything it beats faster.

Poe nods, minutely. "Kriff, yeah, anytime you want," he says.

His gaze darts to the orchid, because yeah, it's not exactly the kind of thing you give someone if you're only looking for a kiss. Kissing, however, isn't something the First Order encouraged, so while it happened, it was taboo, which made it seem far more thrilling than anything going on in the freshers. Kissing Poe is pretty much a recurring fantasy for him at this point. He intends to take his time.

Poe doesn't make it easy for him. He stays rooted in his spot, soft challenge in his gaze.

Anyone else Finn might have rolled his eyes, but Poe is Poe and Finn's already decided that he likes him, so he closes the distance between them, four steps bringing him close enough to make out the flecks of colour in Poe's eyes. His pupils are noticeably blown, and he's biting his lip again. It's really not helping with the whole racing heart thing.

"You shouldn't..." Finn says, and then gives up because he has no idea what he means to say. Instead he reaches up, his hand surprisingly steady as he cups the bottom of Poe's chin, thumb sliding up to pry Poe's lip from his teeth.

It comes free with a wet pop, a faint puff of air dragging over Finn's knuckles. He doesn't bother suppressing a shiver.

Poe's leaning into him, drifting closer like he's not even aware he's doing it. Finn meets him halfway, letting his hand slide up to cup Poe's cheek, angling him so that when they collide it's with near perfect precision.

The feel of Poe's lips against his own is nearly his undoing. He's thought about it, and read about, and seen it in holovids, and maybe practiced once or twice on his hand, but as it turns out theory and practice are two entirely different things, because Poe is... Warm for one thing. Startlingly warm, heat radiating off him in waves. He's also pleasantly solid, Finn acutely aware of everywhere they're touching: Finn's hand on Poe's cheek; Poe's hands against his chest; their knees, knocking together when Finn's legs finally succumb to gravity and buckle.

And then Poe has an arm around him, half steadying him, half dragging him, the slide of lips becoming something wetter, deeper, involving teeth and tongues and Finn's almost--but not quite--embarrassed by the low moan that drags out of him.

He sees rather than feels Poe's smile, smug, Finn thinks, so he draws back a bit, taking Poe's bottom lip with him, nipping at it just to feel Poe shudder against him.

"I have a question," Finn asks when they break apart. They don't go far, thin sliver of space enough to communicate but not enough to relinquish their shared warmth. Poe hums. He wraps another arm around Finn's waist, dragging him closer. Finn lets his free hand settle on Poe's hip, the one on Poe's cheek slipping back to tangle in Poe's hair.

"The orchid..." he gets out, breathing suddenly an issue.

He thinks that might be Poe, who's currently working a thigh between Finn's legs. It takes all of Finn's willpower to not rut against it. His grip on Poe's hip tightens.

"Just a flower, and an old wives tale. It's not magic sex pollen or anything like that," Poe says, Finn rather surprised by how coherent he sounds.

Clearly he's going to have to work on that.

"Good," Finn says, because he doesn't want to stop.

Poe hums at that, hips canting in a way that suggests he doesn't want to stop either. It's almost too much, Finn closing his eyes against the sensation. The hand on Poe's hip moves of its own volition, sliding back to rest on the swell of Poe's ass. Finn squeezes.

It earns him a strangled moan, the sound halfway to a keen. It goes straight to Finn's cock, arousal and desire and, yeah, probably love, pooling in his belly until he's half afraid he might spontaneously combust from it.

One of Poe's hands snakes under the hem of Finn's shirt.

He doesn't do anything with it, just lets it rest in the small of Finn's back, close to the end of his scar but not quite touching. He's had Poe's hands on him before, rubbing in bacta lotion, affixing new bandages, but this is different, feather light touch loaded with meaning. Finn's legs begin to tremble.

"I think I need to sit down," he says, or rather mumbles, his lips currently pressed to the side of Poe's mouth. Poe pants against him.

"Yeah, okay, okay," he gets out, though he makes no move to do anything about it.

Finn feels a swell of pride at that. Poe is breathless and trembling against him and when Finn draws back his gaze is glassy and unfocused. _I did that_ , Finn thinks. He uses the hand on Poe's ass to drag Poe forward. Poe's thigh pushes a little higher, riding hard against Finn's erection but Finn's not about to let Poe derail them now. He steps back, bringing Poe with him, until eventually Poe gets the message and they end up stumble-stepping their way back to Poe's bunk.

"Kriff, Finn, do you even...?"

There's some space between them now, but only because Finn's knees have hit the back of the bed, sending him sprawling, while Poe's still standing, trapped inside the cage of Finn's open legs. It's awkward to have to crane his neck to meet Poe's gaze, but worth it, Poe utterly wrecked: pupils blow; cheeks flushed; lips swollen and red. Poe is staring at him like maybe Finn looks just as undone. Like maybe neither of them are really prepared for this.

Finn's got a hand still cupping Poe's ass, so he drags him forward, close enough to press his nose to the soft expanse of Poe's stomach, Finn inhaling their now combined scents. Poe's hands settle on Finn's shoulders.

"Are you sure about this?" Poe asks, sounding hoarse and strangled, like he's spent the entire night screaming and can no longer get out words. Finn shivers at the sound of it.

"Very," he says, and then he tugs. Poe has nowhere to go but down, so he lands in Finn's lap.

It's nowhere near as graceful as Finn intended, but it doesn't take Poe long to sort himself out, straddling Finn's thighs so that he's looming above him, fingers now scraping the back of Finn's skull. He brings their foreheads together, his breath ghosting over Finn's lips.

"Just give me a minute," Poe says. Finn is struck by the sudden, irrational urge to laugh, giddy at the thought of having reduced Poe to this quivering mess. Instead he presses up, lining their noses together, his head spinning with want and heat and need.

"Believe me, I know the feeling," he gets out, and then they're kissing again, Poe initiating it this time, the gentle press of their lips becoming open and wet. Finn wonders idly if he could drown this way. Wonders if he'd even care.

They're close enough now Finn can feel Poe everywhere, his thighs bracketing Finn's hips, their chests pressed together, hands buried in each other's hair. Poe's a little taller than him like this, so Finn has to crane his neck back to meet his lips. It makes it so easy to tip back, one of his hands sliding down to brace Poe's shoulders, steadying him as they fall.

"Kriff," Poe says, breaking the kiss. He props himself up on a single arm--shaking, Finn is pleased to note--and stares at Finn with an intensity Finn doesn't think he's ever seen.

Finn has no idea what he's looking for, so he simply looks back, as open as he can make himself because he doesn't want to hide anything from Poe, not now not ever. It seems to do the trick, Poe shaking his head, fond amusement curling into a smile.

"How are you even real?" he says, which doesn't exactly make sense so Finn assumes the question is rhetorical.

Because he doesn't need to answer, he's free to drag a hand down Poe's back, fingers landing at the hem of his shirt. A gentle tug lifts it above his pant line, Finn treated to his first bit of skin. He lets his hand splay across the small of Poe's back, thumb tracing absent patterns against his spine. Poe's eyes go impossibly dark.

"Can I?" Finn asks.

The smile that earns him is impossibly bright. Poe doesn't waste any time. He pushes up until he's kneeling, Finn still trapped between his legs, and then reaches back to pull off his shirt in one fluid motion. Finn's mouth goes dry.

He's still got a hand on the small of Poe's back, the other now resting on Poe's hip. He leaves the one on his back, but drags the other around, his hand spreading across the tight expanse of Poe's abdomen. Poe's muscles flutter beneath his touch.

"Kriff," Finn breathes, because Poe is stunning and... "There aren't words for the things I want to do to you," he says.

Poe, who was in the process of sinking back down, freezes, his eyes growing wide. He stares at Finn like Finn's just done something incredible.

"Do you even know you say these things out loud?" he asks. Finn does, so he doesn't really see the point in answering. Instead he reaches for Poe's shoulders, pulling him down until they're chest to chest, Finn's thin t-shirt the only thing between them.

And Poe's obviously not okay with that, because he pulls back and reaches for the hem of Finn's shirt, catching Finn's eye and waiting for Finn's gentle nod before tugging it up. The angle is awkward, Finn scooching up onto his elbows to help facilitate the process.

It's nowhere near as graceful as Poe's display, but at least the shirt's gone, Poe settling back on top of him, the first brush of skin to skin damn-near short-circuiting Finn's brain.

He's dimly aware he's saying something, words tumbling past his lips, but whatever it is can't be important, because Poe merely groans and then surges for Finn's lips, capturing his words, and his tongue in a kiss that Finn's pretty sure might actually kill him.

He feels like he's dying, anyway, breath coming in laboured pants, heart pounding in his chest. His hands are on Poe's ass again, his hips rutting desperately into the space between Poe's legs. This isn't how he wanted to do this--he had a plan, damn it--but all of that's gone out the window, his thoughts replaced by the steady chanting of _Poe, Poe, Poe_.

Still, he hasn't even taken off his pants, which, no, if they're doing this they're doing this right so Finn forces his hips to still, his hands coming up to push at Poe's shoulders. Poe stills instantly.

He breaks the kiss and draws back, looking utterly wrecked but vaguely alarmed. Finn's brain still isn't working, but he manages to get out a single word.

"Pants."

It obviously takes Poe a second to process that, his features clouded with confusion until Finn's meaning gets through. Then he smiles, a little smug and a lot delighted and Finn would laugh if he wasn't _dying_.

Instead he tugs uselessly at Poe's waistband, whining a little because _pants_ and _off_ don't seem to want to form on his tongue. Fortunately Poe seems to get the idea, because he shifts back to start working on his belt.

It's fumbling and awkward and twice Poe curses. Finn should be annoyed but instead he finds the entire display oddly endearing. He watches intently, forgetting entirely about his own attire until Poe lets out a triumphant cry, his belt coming loose.

And right, this works better with both of them undressed, so Finn starts working on his own pants, and immediately realizes Poe isn't the only one struggling with coordination. His fingers don't seem to want to work, his clasp an impossible contraption and who invented pants anyway? This would be so much easier without. How anyone inside the First Order managed it inside their armour he'll never understand, Finn holding vivid memories of finding fully uniformed stormtroopers locked together inside a storage closet.

The clasp eventually gives way, Finn getting his pants down and over his hips, but after that he gets distracted, Poe reoccupying his space, this time in only his underwear--bright orange boxer-briefs Finn notes, committing the sight to memory. Finn can't find it in him to complain, not when Poe's shimmying himself between Finn's thighs, the feel of Poe's cock pressing against his own eliciting a near whimper.

He spreads his legs, or tries to, his pants caught midway down his thighs. Still, it's enough to get Poe closer, Poe rutting against him, his face buried in Finn's neck, breath fogging against his skin.

"I..." Finn tries, words scattering across his thoughts. He clears his throat; tries again.

"I don't think I'm going to last that long..." 

Sucking now on his jugular, Poe huffs out a laugh. The sound of it is near hysterical.

"You and me both," he says. Despite that he does draw back, coming up onto his elbows to catch Finn's eye, Finn caught by the desperation he finds there.

"It's good," Finn says, thrusting up for emphasis, inexplicably pleased when Poe's eyes flutter shut.

He does it again, and again, until Poe draws his lip between his teeth and thrusts back.

"Trust me," Poe says, the words carried on a breath. "I can do better."

As if to prove the point he shifts, rolling them vaguely to the side so that Finn's thigh becomes trapped under Poe's weight. He gets a hand between them, fingers tracing the outline of Finn's cock while his thumb absently rubs against his own. Finn catches the idea immediately.

Except he wants skin on skin, so he tugs at his underwear, getting his cock free and then nudging Poe to do the same. Poe does so without question, pausing only to reach under Finn's head, to where he apparently keeps a tube of lubricant stashed under his pillow. Finn would laugh if he wasn't already so far gone. Instead he angles his hips, shifting forward so that that he can get a hand around both their cocks.

Poe joins him a second later, fingers slick with lubricant, friction giving way to something better, the last of Finn's blood rushing from his head.

He tips forward, pressing their foreheads together in a bid to remain conscious. He's already spinning dangerously out of control, the feel of Poe slick against him, their cocks sliding together inside the loose tangle of their hands. It tips him nearer and nearer the edge. He can feel Poe's heartbeat, the air between them electrically charged. Any minute now he's going to come, thought and reason vanishing behind blinding white light. His only hope is that Poe follows with him, this something he wants them to do together.

Except of course that is the moment Poe grunts, loud and echoing as his hand picks up speed. He presses further into Finn, Finn acutely aware of everywhere they're touching: the tangle of their feet; the sliding of their cocks; Poe's weight against his thigh. Poe presses closer still, angling his head until again they're kissing, nothing close to grace, just the wet slide of mouth against mouth, cock against cock, Finn crashing, crashing, crashing...

Poe jerks against him, his mouth sliding to Finn's cheek as wetness spills between them. Finn's too shocked by the suddenness of it to do anything but come.

It hits him like a blaster to the chest, all the air knocked from his lungs. He can only scramble, clinging to Poe like Poe's his only lifeline, Finn dimly aware that Poe's doing the same. It lasts what seems an eternity, time stretching out before him, losing all meaning. Even after, he floats, not quite connected to his body, aware of only of the heaviness of his limbs and a growing warmth in his chest.

Poe moves first, though it's not to roll away, but rather to burrow deeper, Finn aware now of the sticky dampness between them. He still can't find it in him to care. Instead he brings up arms up to wrap around Poe's shoulders, drawing him close. Poe mumbles something into Finn's collarbone.

"What?" Finn manages. His thoughts are still hazy, blood still pounding in his ears.

"I asked if we were dead," Poe says, his words felt before they're heard. He chuckles then, his breath warm against Finn's skin.

"Don't know," Finn manages. "Either way, it's good."

And it is, he realizes. Not the sex--well, not just the sex--but all of it, Poe and them and the prospect of doing this again tomorrow. Hell, even the prospect of just seeing Poe tomorrow, Finn infinitely glad he didn't take the First Order's word on this, because this is so much more than satisfying a biological urge. It's a connection Finn's never known, but one he wouldn't trade now for anything in the universe.

The importance of that strikes him, and it suddenly becomes very important that Poe knows, so Finn draws back a bit, not wanting to disrupt the warmness of their cocoon, but needing then to see Poe's eyes.

Poe draws back a little too, sensing perhaps Finn's epiphany. His gaze is searching, not the same apprehension as before, but something new, something fragile; something bigger than anything Finn's ever known.

"So," Finn says.

"So," Poe parrots.

"I like you," Finn says, trying then to convey everything he feels.

Poe smiles, big and bright, everything on display.

"I like you, too," he says, and Finn can't help it, a wide grin breaking across his face.

Poe echoes it, the two of them grinning at each other like idiots until Finn decides he'd much rather they be kissing, so he does exactly that. The space between them is sticky and damn, Finn's skin now pebbled in gooseflesh, but he can't find it in him to care. He kisses Poe like it's the first time, like he intends to kiss Poe tomorrow, and the day after that. Every day from now until the First Order's destruction and beyond, because if the First Order taught him anything, it's that conditioning isn't enough. There has to be something worth fighting for, and this is it, the emotional connections the First Order looks upon with scorn and that? That will be their undoing.


End file.
